Vampire The Masquerade Los Angeles Knights
by LadyRosalinn
Summary: This fic is set three eyars after Lacroix's little "accident". This is not my fic I am merely posting it here for the benefit of my sister, Raziya. JackxOC, OCxOC, DamselxNines


[Another year gone, another year closer to some ancient, impending doom. Night after night I can see it in the abysmal night sky, the fading stars, and the moon which offers it's lovely pale-blue light to this world that so often takes it for granted. It goes unnoticed on this night of nights, as the sky fills with fire of every color, while the Kindred and Kine across the planet celebrate . . . celebrate what? The chime as the clock strikes midnight? Yet another day we must live out our lives? An excuse to poison the liver and act like unbelievable idiots without fearing the consequences? Fools. Nothing's changed. Those lost last year are still gone, illnesses that plagued the body still wreak havoc within, the money fritted away during the holidays still rests in the sweaty hands of the government, and I am still as dead as I was last year.  
Raziya Rodriguez watched her sire, whom she so loved so very much, enter the bar. At 18 years old, she had completed her training at the monastery and headed out into the streets of Los Angeles for the first time. "Smiling" Jack had sired her that very night, and convinced a fellow Brujah, who was already marked for Final Death, to watch over her while he hunted. Thankfully, none had ever discovered Jack was her true sire.  
Raziya turned her back to the window overlooking the filth covered streets below The Last Round and sighed. Truly, nothing much had changed since that fateful night 3 years ago when Sebastian Lacroix, the former Prince of Downtown, Los Angeles, had his little "accident" up in his tower. Her unlife up until that point had been extremely eventful, unusually so for one in her situation, and the week that followed had been highly entertaining. Raziya had become the full owner of Club Confession, after licking Venus Dare's last drops of blood from her delicate fingers. The Anarchs had needed to claim Downtown L.A. as their domain, and asked Raziya to be the Baron (though only publicly) since she was the only one who had patience for the responsibilities the position entails. It had been fun and games at first, but soon came the time she last remembered laughing: When Nines yelled that it was time for Jack to get rid of the mummified corpse of Messarach, while Jack had claimed he was "part of the family now."  
A sudden, loud cracking sound and a shout brought the girl back to her senses. The latest "Cammy do-gooder" had been dangerously close to provoking Damsel for quite some time now, and it sounded as though she were finally beating some sense into him. [Poor bastard. She brushed the loose strands of her long Irish red hair behind her ear and headed downstairs to join the others.

Ten Seconds

[Every New Year it's nearly fuckin' impossible to get a drop of sober blood, but hell I'm not complaining. I don't really care one way or another about "drunk blood," granted it is a helluva lot easier to get. The humans react slower and foolishly at best, and you can do what the fuck you want in front of them knowing that they can't trust their own judgment, let alone get someone else to believe them. Only downside is once it hits you, it hits you hard and right about now I'd be fucking boned if I was attacked in full force. Could be worse, I could be one of those low-bloods stumbling around the alleys, drinking what's left of their lives away. Geh! Even worse still, I could have drained one of 'em. Disgusting shit, and I'd really rather not throw up what little I did get from those back alley teenagers. Doesn't matter, nearly back at the bar, then I'm done for the night.  
Jack frowned as he made his way up the kine-covered street. He normally had no problems slipping in and out of the crowd, but tonight he had taken in contaminated blood, and the flocks of people heading to the center of the city to watch the fireworks display were pushing him around quite a bit. The former pirate grunted as he fought off the urge to string up these drunkards with their own insides. They weren't worth the effort.  
As he finally approached The Last Round, Jack looked at the second floor window where his childe, Raziya, always waited for him with her beautifully tragic smile across her face. That smile of hers always brought back the memories of about 20 years ago, when he had befriended the 6 year old Irish beauty, after being captured by the L.A. Society of Leopold. They wanted to see what would happen to a vampire that was starved for blood, and kept him there for 3 months. Luckily for him on his first night there, Raziya had crept downstairs and offered her blood in exchange for some friendly words, and had done so every night after that before finally helping him escape. [Sweet kid. He grinned as he slammed into the door of the bar, and headed inside.  
As soon as he stepped in, Jack's ears were assaulted with the usual sounds of "hardcore" music, Nines and Skelter competitively playing darts, and Damsel beating some poor Camarilla prick's head into the wall beside her. Jack shook his head as he sat down across from the TV. He could hear Raziya heading towards the stairs, and waited for her to join him as he took in the sights and sounds of the Anarchs that had become not only a coterie, but a close-nit pack that would fight, kill and possibly die for one another. He heard a loud SNAP coming from Damsel's direction, followed by a scream from the whelp that had pissed her off. Jack turned back to the TV . . . Nearly midnight . . .

Nine Seconds

[Worst part about running this place is taking the damned inventory . . . well, maybe not the worst part, but definitely the most boring. The cleaning can be pretty bad too, and throwing out the "disruptions," this bar can be more trouble than it's worth, but hell, it's mine. The last customer for the night headed out to watch the fireworks, they should be starting soon . . . never been so relieved to hear the last human haul his ass out that door. All right, let's see what the damage is . . . We'll be needing to order in a bit more food and a hell of a lot more booze, not to mention a good couple of crates of new mugs to replace the ones Skelter's been breaking over people's head since fuckin' Thanksgiving. God Damn the holidays bring out the worst in people. 35 . . . 36 . . . 37 . . . 38 . . . 39 . . . One more . . . Done, finally, thank Fucking God.  
After re-stacking the crates and boxes in the back room of the bar, Nines headed out to relax with the rest of his crew. He had to duck under Damsel's arm as she reached for the Camarilla newbie who had been harassing her all last month, and watched as she proceeded to bash the creep's head into the wall at her side. That particular spot on the wall had worn down after all the times she had done this, and Nines noted that the place would soon need a fresh coat of paint. Then again, nearly everything in the bar looked like it needed some fixing up these nights, since the near constant bar fights had taken their toll on the place. He didn't want to admit it, but each night The Last Round looked as though it was coming closer and closer to closing down for good.  
Nines shook his head violently in a vain attempt to rid himself of those thoughts, and didn't hesitate to start a game of darts with Skelter. He didn't allow himself to relax all that often, and very rarely played any games, but hell, it couldn't hurt to let loose just this once. Taking a few darts from Skelter, Nines turned to the dart-board on the wall and cringed at the peeling paneling all around him. [If these darts hit my wall and screw it up any more, I'm gonna lose my shit… Nines sighed and took his first shot in what he knew would become a heated competition, as it always did on the occasions that Skelter challenged him to a game.  
After a couple of darts hit the walls, and a couple of curses left his lips, Nines heard Jack enter the bar with a bit of a swagger, telling that he'd had a bit of bad blood very recently. Nines clenched his jaw and turned around awaiting the onslaught when Raziya inevitably discovered Jack was buzzed, she fucking hated that. He caught a glimpse of Damsel rubbing the bloodied-up Cammy's face against a rusted old door hinge, and heard a sickening CRACK and yelp. [That's got to hurt.

Eight Seconds

[Oh fucking great, here we go again. Why does this little puke insist on coming in here and pissing me off every single night? It's almost like he gets some sick, twisted joy out of watching me fucking scream. Argh, I was NOT put here for his God damn entertainment. If he gets the balls to ask me why we won't let the Camarilla back in one more time, I'm going to put my foot so far up his ass he'll be tying my shoelaces with his tongue. Oh blah, blah, blah . . . what the hell is he bitching about this time? Even though I don't give a rat's ass he just keeps on talking. The hell? What . . . What the FUCK did he just say? Delinquents and ingrates? He is really fucking asking for it this time… man, if I didn't promise Nines I'd try to be good tonight . . . WHAT? Nines? A scum-sucking asshole? That's fucking it, I'm going to rip this dickweed a new one!  
Over the decades, Damsel put up with a lot of crap from a lot of people. Even though she often lost her temper, it was very rare that she acted out and attacked someone. However, there was one thing that always pushed her too far, she wouldn't stand for it, and she would make anyone who crossed the line sorry they didn't jump head first into the sunrise the day before. Nines was, quite possibly, the most important part of Damsel's unlife. He had been there since her very first night, he taught her all she needed to know, he sheltered and protected her . . . He may not have been her sire, but they had a connection that most Kindred would never understand. As far as this Fiery redhead was concerned, anyone who dared to insult Nines in front of her better have an urn picked out.  
Feeling the rage building inside her, Damsel reached over and grabbed the Cammy bastard by the throat, as Nines slipped under her arm into the Main portion of the bar. She hesitated, wondering if he was going to start on her for breaking her promise, but he acted as though he didn't even notice. He seemed a little too distracted by the rundown state of his beloved bar. She decided she would apologize later, maybe try to comfort him, and proceeded to ram the Newbie asshole's head into the wall.  
Damsel fell into repeatedly beating the fledgling, while watching Nines and Skelter get into an entertainingly frustrating game of darts. [Heh, when Nines is pissed off he's actually kinda . . . Her thought's were interrupted when Jack nearly fell into the bar, drunk again, just like last year. [Raz is gonna have a fit . . . The sound of shattering bone marrow and a shriek brought Damsel back to what she was doing. She let go and watched the unconscious Kindred slump to the floor, his nose squashed flat against his face.

Seven Seconds

[Well, damn, look at that. Kid's got a lot more balls than I gave him credit for. Didn't think he'd be back after Damsel nearly ripped his face off last night. Ah, man, fuck that shit. Lick ain't gutsy, he's just fuckin' stupid. Come back to prove a point? Only point that needs to be made is "you screw 'round with us and you ain't getting' back to your haven in one piece." Figures, he's back bitchin' about the Camarilla again, and he's picked the wrong damn person to mess with this night. We could have gone another year without the Camarilla's bullshit if it wasn't for the boy over there treadin' on our turf. Good thing I appreciate that everyone's an equal here, or I would have shown his ashes to the door a long time ago. Doesn't matter… Soon enough he'll be sayin' the wrong thing to the "college girl" over there and she'll be takin' care of him herself. This should be fun to watch.  
For the last 2 hours Skelter had been watching TV, lounging back on this favorite chair downstairs with his feet on the table. Of course if Nines were in the room he wouldn't dare keep his feet up like this, not since Nines started worrying about the condition of his bar anyways. It was a pretty sad sight, watching him go through the motions not knowing what to do, looking so worn out and tired every time he looked around at the place withering away. The Last Round was going through a vicious cycle: They didn't have any money because they had no customers, they didn't have customers because the place was falling apart, and the place was falling apart because they didn't have any money. There wasn't much any of the Anarchs could do about it, except maybe Raziya, who had been saving up money she'd been making at her club to help Nines out a bit.  
Without any warning, Skelter heard a vicious growl erupt from Damsel as she reached towards the New-Kid and grabbed his scrawny little neck. Nines had finished the inventory in the back and ducked under Damsel's arm just as she had made the grab. Skelter did a double-take when he saw the exhausted look on their leaders' face, he looked as though he desperately needed a distraction. Making up his mind, Skelter shifted his feet from the table, headed over to the dart board on the back wall, and offered some darts to Nines. [May not be much, but it should help for now. The two started up their game knowing that in a matter of minutes they would be competing at each other's throats.  
Just as things were getting fairly heated, Jack burst through the door and took a seat opposite the TV. [Aw shit, bad blood again … there's gonna be hell to pay. CRACK. Skelter snapped his head in the direction of the sound and watched as the Camarilla boy cried out and slumped to the floor, unconscious. ['Bout damn time.

Six Seconds

[I found out I had a younger sister when I was 9 years old and for 10 years, Raziya and I wrote to each other every week. I lived in Japan during these years… We sent each other gifts and I tried to teach her Japanese, while she taught me what she learned of the supernatural. It's been three years since I last heard from my sister, three years since our cousin, Samantha, told me she saw Raziya in Hollywood … That's why I'm in Los Angeles. I didn't want to leave my Hero, or Dakota and Abigail, but I just have to know what happened to her. I've been gone for nearly a week, and I still have one lead to check out, but if it doesn't go anywhere I'll need to head home, I miss Hero and the kids, and I know they miss me too. I wish I could be there for Abbey's first New Year's… It's nearly midnight … I'll give them a call after I check out the Bail Bonds place.  
Rosalinn Messhamora adjusted her hood over her long mahogany hair and left the cover of the Santa Monica Parking Garage. It had been raining for hours, though it looked as though the rain may light up before the celebrations got into full swing down by the Pier. The streets were nearly empty since everyone was either cooped up in their homes with their families, or down at the beach waiting for the party to really get going once the clock hit midnight. Rosalinn smiled as the warm rain kissed her face, making her miss Hero all the more. She sighed as she turned the corner across the street from a rather cozy looking Diner. Maybe when she was done for the night, she would grab a bite to eat, if the place was still open.  
She passed the Junkyard and the SunCo Gasoline place all the while feeling as though she were being watched from the other side of the chain link gate. [That's just creepy. Rosalinn felt a cold chill creep up her spine, and she quickened her pace, hoping the feeling was merely caused by the Doomsayer across the street screaming about the Apocalypse. She cast a weary glance at him before entering the door beneath the sign marked "A&B Kilpatrick's 24 Hour Bail Bonds."  
Once inside, Rosalinn removed her hood, allowing her long hair to tumble out down past her hips, and proceeded to look around the shop. A large, beefy man with slicked back, greasy black hair had fallen asleep at his desk and was snoring happily, oblivious to her presence. She decided not to wake him, and headed to the back of the room to check out the "Amazing Krime-puter" in the back. A few quick key strokes later, Rosalinn came across the sub directory "Rodriguez, Raziya." She smiled as she jotted down the address of the club Confession, which her sister apparently owned. [Found you.

Five Seconds

[Alright, the kids have been properly fed and recently changed … the plants have been watered, and the dishes have been washed. I think that's all I need to do tonight… I wonder why Rosalinn hasn't called yet? She'll probably call after midnight to say Happy New Year. Damn, I miss her, but she needed to do this. I hope she finds her sister, I don't think I could stand it if she came home disappointed and depressed like the last time she tried this. Every year we get closer to finding Raziya, and every year we fail. We keep moving closer to where we think she is, but we can't continue doing that now that we have Dakota and Abbey, they need the stability, and we just don't have the money to keep this up. All I can really do now is wait and hope … hmm … Abigail is asleep on the couch and Dakota is … Oh no, where did he go now?  
In the time that his wife had been in Los Angeles, Hero Messhamora had had the opportunity to further bond with his children. The college had shut down classes for the holiday season, so Hero and Rosalinn decided it would be the perfect time for him to spend time with the kids, while she went to look for her sister. Being a parent was definitely the hardest, yet most rewarding job in the world … Hero lifted his sweet one-year-old daughter off the couch and carried her upstairs all the while keeping an eye open for his mischievous two-year-old, who would have no doubt found a place to stash his diaper by now. He sighed as he lowered Abbey into her crib, wishing Rosalinn was there to sing to the kids while he stood and listened in the doorway.  
After Abigail was put to bed, Hero wandered around looking for his AWOL son with increasing anxiety. The longer Dakota ran around, the sooner he would lose the diaper, and Hero dreaded the mess that would more than likely follow. When he reached the stairs at the top of the landing, Hero glanced the abandoned diaper that had been dropped on the 3rd step from the bottom, while a little fleshy-pink bottom took off into the kitchen. [Ha! Gotcha! He raced down the stairs, nearly slipping on the diaper, and ran into the kitchen at top speed. Dakota had run through the hallway and from the sound of it had found the remote control to the TV. Hero grinned as he crept up to the living room, planning on surprising his little jaybird son. Unfortunately, his plan didn't take into consideration the foot-sized toy car in the doorway, which Hero noted when his foot slid forward as he fell backwards with a cry. [Fucking Ow. Dakota's small giggle answered his father's cry of pain, as he cuddled up to the human lump on the floor. Hero chuckled as he picked up the little nudist and took him to get a new "diaper of oppression" before putting him to bed.

Four Seconds

Just outside the city limits, hidden from the prying eyes of mortals, was a dark and musty underground temple, just barely lit by the seemingly endless supply of torches adorning the walls. This was a place of Death and Destruction, a place that kept a cold chill in the hearts of the monsters who dwelled within. Many had died here, both Kindred and kine, and they had died the wrong way.  
The swish of flowing fabric could be heard within the walls of the temple, along with the soft footsteps passing over earth and stone. Whomever these steps belonged to walked with a purpose as dark as the temple halls, and the movement of the material told of a confident air. The footsteps soon ceased, bringing about a kind of silence that resonates through a cemetery in the dark recesses of the night. It did not last long. The dread quiet was broken by a woman's cold, cruel voice.  
"I have returned from the world above. This city is ripe and ready for the picking. It's only a matter of time before the shadow spreads over the streets thick as blood. Kindred and kine alike will cater to my every desire or risk Final Death in the morning light. Yes, dear brother, the time will soon come when we stride through our kingdom, vanquishing those who stand in our way, punishing all who oppose us. Arise from your slumber, little brother. The night, she beckons to us … let us answer her sweetly seductive call. We only have but 10 seconds to midnight."  
The woman stepped back, as the ground below her feet began to shift and part, and two inhuman, filthy hands broke through the surface bringing with it a truly terrifying demon. The creature let out a frustrated snarl as he hauled his body from the grave, and looked to his sister with eyes that glowed like the fires of hell. With movements quick as lightening, he advanced on the intruder, taking a swipe at her with his massive claws and missing her by little more than an inch.  
"What reason have you for waking me, sister?" The demon spit out the last word, as he rested on his tombstone. "I thought my instructions were clear that you were not to wake me until the Final Nights were upon us."  
"Does this mean you aren't happy to see me?" The woman answered with a sneer, which was answered with an irritated growl. "The Final Nights may well be upon us, brother, and I have a way to speed it along. But for tonight, we must make sure you are fed. The kine above us are drunk with pleasure, slow and stupid as a result of their celebrations, they will come to us willingly."  
The demon eyes his sister. "Celebrations? What celebrations?"  
"They celebrate the coming of a new year, which will be here in … three … two … one."  
The two monsters beneath the ground could hear the thunderous explosion of cheers coming from the people in the city above. The woman in the shadows grinned and kissed her brother's deformed cheek.  
"Happy New Year Mikhail."


End file.
